


Who You Belong To

by CountryDoctor



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scones, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountryDoctor/pseuds/CountryDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first in two ways:  my first Scones and first PWP.  </p><p>Scotty and Bones are on vacation after a long work week on the Enterprise.  They are making up for lost time.  </p><p>Feedback and comments are very much appreciated.</p><p>Beta: Pamdizzle (aka Porn Goddess)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Belong To

 

       It seemed like years since McCoy or Scotty were granted a moments peace. 

      The Enterprise was attacked by a Royan vessel called the Phantom, a surprise encounter initiated by a Commander who thirsted for “a worthy competitor.”   Captain James T. Kirk was never one to surrender—especially when eminent danger invaded his ship, endangered his crew, some of whom he considered family. He ordered Chekov to lift the shields before ordering the ensign to fire lasers.

     The battle of wills began and McCoy’s sickbay was soon populated with injured crew members, most of them young men and women emotionally and psychologically unprepared for this war or any other.   He, Dr. M’Benga and other members of his staff worked diligently to bandage gushing wounds and mend broken limbs, hurling commands at one another for the sake of saving lives.

     Likewise, Scotty was occupied with the chaos in Engineering. The blasts from the Phantom not only damaged the Enterprise’s deflector shield grid emitter, weakening defense shields by forty percent, but blew to hell one of the warp engines.  Scotty muttered a string of Gaelic curse words before dashing from the bridge to the engineering station, laboring to hold the ship together and appease Kirk’s commands.

     By the time the battle had ended, the Enterprise had suffered fifteen casualties and ten severely injured crew along with two weeks’ worth of repairs in damage throughout the ship. At the end of their shifts, both Scotty and McCoy bonelessly collapsed onto their bed, without so much as undressing.

     Hence the escape to Alanis V—one that was a long time coming.  McCoy requested shore leave for the both of them a month in advance, the destination and 16-star resort already chosen. They treated themselves to a room called the Beach View, known for its access to a breathtaking exhibition of ocean waves beyond the room’s picture windows.  Both he and his husband looked forward to it and—especially after the recent chaos onboard—it was far overdue. 

*****

       McCoy emerged from the bathroom, stretching the kinks from his back with a relieved sigh. He walked across the spacious room and towards the bed, his feet padding gently over the thick, soft carpeting. His eyes fell casually upon a highly relaxed Scotty. The Engineer’s legs were crossed at the ankles, his feet rubbing together in an attempt to generate warmth. His hands rested on his soft belly, fingers interlocked while his eyes shifted slightly beneath closed lids. The engineer’s ears caught McCoy’s heavy sigh and he opened his eyes to the reveal brown-sugar irises which seemed to smile at the doctor.  He hoisted himself up slightly with his elbows.

       “Everything alright, Len?” Scotty inquired, his shapeless brows crinkled with concern.

        “Everything’s fine,” replied the doctor, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m just a little beat is all. I see you’re all laid out an’comfortable.”

       “Aye,” agreed the Scotsman, his expression softening as a smile shaped his lips.  “I don’ know if I wan’ t’go back. Not after the week we had.”    

        “Well, that’s all mighty fine an’ good,” McCoy replied, his own mouth donning his signature half smile, “but we gotta go back to the monkey house sooner or later. Now are you gonna scoot over or you gonna continue hoggin’ the bed?”

         “Ye didn’t say the magic word, Len,” joked Scotty. 

         “Jackass,” McCoy chuckled as he climbed onto the bed, softly tapping his knuckles against the side of Scotty’s thigh. “Move over.”

          Scotty complied with the doctor’s request, sliding over to the side to make room for his husband.  Len glided closer to him and wrapped his slender arm around Scotty’s waist, resting his long leg over that of the other man’s.  The back of Scotty’s head descended onto the plush white pillow, sinking down, relishing in its softness.  He stretched his arm out and draped it around Len’s shoulders, snaking his fingertips up and down his bare arm. Len’s skin felt firm and slightly dry, as if the southern sun absorbed some of its moisture.  Yet it was silky and smooth to the touch, radiating with the warmth that always comforted Scotty.

         “Damn, that feels good,” McCoy purred against the nape of Scotty’s neck.  He tightened his grip around the other man’s full waist and began massaging his side with strong, slender fingers.

          A quiet moan rumbled from Scotty’s throat as Len kneaded his flesh with his digits.  Len was aware of all his sensitive spots, and a pleasurable sensation surged through his body every time his strong hands found them.  He closed his eyes, enjoying every rub as he felt his organ twitch beneath his plaid pajama pants.  

          The doctor nuzzled his nose against Monty’s earlobe, the aroma of fresh cedar wood and spice intoxicating him.  His fingers applied more pressure against his husband’s side, making the other man purr and sigh towards the ceiling.  The tones vibrated deliciously against the lips pressed softly against Scotty’s neck and his own organ swelled in response to the rhythms of the Scotman’s quiet whisperings of his name.  The fingers caressing his skin circled around his bicep and squeezed a little too tightly.  McCoy winced slightly, yet chuckled as his hand slowly disappeared under Monty’s black t-shirt, traveling in search of his favorite spot. 

          Scotty twisted his head towards the other man and clinched his mouth onto his, parting his lips somewhat, as an invitation to McCoy’s tongue.  The doctor responded in kind, their tongues intermingled passionately as if overreacting to time lost. The doctor’s palms slid down his back and fingers caught the bottom of Scotty’s shirt.  He pulled it up slightly, the cool breeze from the air conditioner brushing against olive skin.  Scotty abruptly disconnected their lips and, with McCoy’s assistance, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

         The engineer collapsed onto the bed again, his stiff erect nipples exposed. Driven by intuition and habit, the doctor bowed his head over the Scotsman’s chest and began meticulously sucking on his right nipple, his teeth gently biting on it before releasing, his moist lips suckling on the tender flesh.  McCoy’s lips quirked a bit when he felt his husband’s body jerk suddenly, his back arching off the mattress as cries tore from the man’s throat.

       “Oh God, Len,” panted Scotty breathlessly, succumbing to the pleasure generated by McCoy’s wet tongue.  Every nerve ending beneath the brown ringlet of flesh pulsed, his body trembled, overwhelmed with stimulation.  One hand gripped bundles of the feather down coverlet while fingers on the other raked through his partner’s silky brown hair. His organ struggled against the confines of his pants, blood and heat pulsating through its veins, the ache of which was nearly unbearable. 

        Leonard glimpsed the straining bulge of Monty’s erection from his peripheral vision and hummed. He could feel the heavy weight and soft texture of his husband’s cock against his tongue, the muscle memory thoroughly etched. He knew the exact flavor—the slightly bitter, salty taste—that Monty’s fluid would leave in his mouth after he came and McCoy groaned, hungry for it anew. He lifted his head with sudden urgency to meet the gaze of his lover, his chest heaving rapidly as he struggled for air.  ~~~~

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” the doctor demanded, his gruff tone spiked with unadulterated lust.  “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

        Scotty swallowed harshly, attempting to wet his rapidly drying throat. It was sometimes overwhelming to be the focus of Len’s passionate nature—be it fury in sickbay or lust in the bedroom. The good doctor knew all of his weaknesses and Monty’s nipples still ached with the loss of his husband’s exploitive mouth, teasing and tending. He wanted that mouth elsewhere, he realized and panted, “Suck me off,” he managed to plea through ragged breath. “Take me in y’mouth, Len.”  
           

        Wordlessly, McCoy slid down the length of Scotty’s body until his nose was parallel to his clothed erection. His thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of the offending material and pulled it from his husband’s legs with intent. The swollen organ caught on the fabric and bent back before snapping to attention upon its release. The head glistened with colorless fluid and McCoy skated his tongue across his lips and felt his heart stutter before hoisting himself between the V of Monty’s legs.  

       Len’s chest pressed against the mattress as his mouth hovered over Monty’s sex. His own cock was hard against the soft fabric of his silk boxers and the subtle resistance of the firm bed. His hips rolled of their own accord, seeking some friction to take off the edge of his own arousal as he gently wrapped his fingers around the base of his husband’s cock and closed his mouth over its weeping tip. Then, slowly, he took it all in and closed his eyes as the slightly curved head of Monty’s organ met with the back of his throat. He fought his gag reflex before pulling back up slowly, flicking his tongue over the slit to lap up the warm, salty liquid he’d fantasized about moments before.

       McCoy repeated this sequence for a few minutes, eyes closed, his momentum increasing, synchronized with the rhythmic sounds of Scotty’s loud delicious moaning. The Scotsman’s body trembled and shifted as McCoy’s lips glided over his pulsing shaft. His thick fingers combed through Len’s dark brown mane once more, occasionally roughly gripping strands of it before letting go. That was a sign, an indication that Scotty was trying desperately not to come, to prevent himself from pouring his fluid into Len’s eager mouth too soon.

      He abruptly released the Scotsman’s sex from between his lips, producing a tiny _pop_ sound.  “God damn, Monty,” McCoy panted, his chest heaving. “I wan’cha to take me.”  Beneath the gruffness of his tone swirled a mixture of anticipation and yearning for Scotty to overwhelm him.

      Scotty reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the lubricant he knew was there—he didn’t need to be asked twice—as Leonard flung his boxers across the room and situated himself on the bed. He absorbed every contour of his husband’s naked frame, mentally photographing Monty’s soft belly, his perfectly furred arms and legs, calves, thighs and ass smoothly shaped by years of climbing up and down the ladders connected to the walls of Jefferies Tubes.  Waves of arousal crashed within the doctor, tumbling, the inferno mounting and spreading, on the verge of engulfing him.

      The Scotsman appeared behind him, depositing a warm gentle palm on the back of Len’s shoulder before lightly directing him forward.  Len landed on his hands and knees, his thighs and ass cheeks spread apart, exposing his tight entrance.  Scotty’s tongue scaled eagerly across his mouth as he carefully slid a slickened index finger into Len’s inviting warmth.  The other man jerked a little from the sensation, but then breathy moans poured out of him as Scotty‘s digits slid in and out effortlessly.  He then delicately entered another digit and then a third, stretching. 

     “Ah—AH!  Jesus!” praised McCoy, the pressure pleasurably overwhelming him.  His lightly furred sac grew heavy with his seed, and his organ wept streams of pre cum.  Any more teasing and it would be over before it started.  “Please, Monty!  Take me already!”

     Scotty withdrew his fingers, unadulterated arousal pulsed through his being like an aftershock.  He savored the fact that Len, a man who took very little shite from anyone regardless of their political standing or rank, was now begging— _pleading_ —to be dominated.

     “Turn around,” Scotty ordered, his voice low and saturated with lust.  McCoy eagerly complied, his spine sinking down into the mattress. Scotty caught Len’s legs and hoisting the other man’s knees over his shoulders.  He circled his arms around the doctor’s legs as Len slightly elevated his hips.  With one hand, the Scotsman positioned his organ perfectly before slowly, effortlessly sliding into his husband.

     McCoy’s cry of ecstasy tore through the room, ricocheting off the sky blue walls, the trembling nautical painting above the bed post, the creamy white ceiling hovering over their heads.  His throat felt raw from the deep-throating, his jaws were sore, but the pleasure of that cock now sliding against his tautly stretched entrance and over his prostate made the annoying ache in his jaw worth it.

      Scotty’s gaze never left his husband, grinning as Len enjoyed every minute of him, his thighs crashing against the other man’s skin, his palms slickened with moisture.  “God dammit, Len,” he moaned through clenched teeth.  “I’m gonne bugger you till y’can’t walk.”

      “That a promise?” McCoy replied breathlessly, revealing in the intensity.  “Harder, Scotty!  Harder dammit!”

       The Scotsman increased his thrusts, jackhammering McCoy’s prostate as the doctor’s yells of pleasure increased in volume.  Beads of sweat dripped off Scotty’s forehead and onto his husband’s already dampened skin.  “Who do y’ belong to?!” growled Scotty lustfully, a grin decorating his lips.

       “You!,” McCoy yelled. The intensity was making him lightheaded.  Yet his husband’s domination over him, his strong hands binding him to his shoulders as his spine bounced harshly against the mattress amplified his desire for more. 

        “Who?”

        “You, darlin’!.  I belong to you!”

       “That’s right, Len.  You’re mine an’ I can do what I want t’you.”

       “Yes---ah---y-yes.  Do—goddamn---what you want!  Don’t stop!”

       “Beg me.  Beg me not t’stop.” 

      “Don’t stop.  Please!”

       “I didn’t hear ye th’first time.”

       “DON’T STOP, DAMMIT!”

       Scotty relished in this game, feeling himself getting close.  Everything in him drank in the moment of talking to Len like this, of watching this dominant, brazenly pig-headed figure surrender to him in this way without objection made him shutter.  He pressed his digits firmly against McCoy’s flesh as he plunged over the edge, his body stiffening and trembling as his cock emptied itself inside Len’s squeezing channel.

       The sensation of his husband’s seed flooding into him in overwhelmed Len.  Within seconds, his own pleasure crested and his cock jolted as stripes of white hot emissions painted his stomach. Len quietly lied on his back, sore but beaming tiredly as Scotty withdrew, lowering Len’s legs onto the bed.  He watched the man slowly lift off the bed, wobbling a little before regaining his footing.  He marveled at his husband’s round ass as the man bent down and picked up his pajama pants. 

       Scotty climbed gingerly back onto the bed and wrapped his arm around McCoy after wiping them clean. The doctor lazily rolled over to face Scotty and gaze into his husband’s gentle brown eyes.  Their lips met and parted in seconds.

      “I love ye, Len,” Scotty whispered affectionately.

      “Back atcha, Cowboy,” replied McCoy tenderly, stroking feather-light touches against Scotty’s cheek with his index finger. The Scotsman pulled his husband closer, the warmth radiating from the other man’s skin a comforting balm as both men surrendered to nightfall and fatigue.

 

 

* * *

 

 

   



End file.
